Finally Fishing
by Lunar1
Summary: Sam Carter finally accepts that fishing invitation... (First ever SG1 fic, so please be nice and review!)
1. The Cabin

Sam

Fishing is not something I have ever really been that interested in. If anything, I've always found the whole idea a little repulsive. I went once, with my brother, and having to unhook the snagged fish was... just something that sent a little shiver of revulsion down my eight year old spine. I know it sounds kind of stupid, I mean, I've seen worse things in the military. I've certainly seen worse since I've been attached to the SGC but something is still at little terrified at the prospect of having to untangle fish and line again...

... Then again maybe it also has something to do with the fact that I'm sitting in this sweltering car with the radio on full, blasting out some song I have never heard before (and never want to again) and a man who I happen to find quite attractive is driving in the seat next to me, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. Long tapering fingers attached to large hands that- 

Better stop that thought right there, before I start blushing. 

It really is a beautiful day. The sky is a wonderful blue colour, the clouds are few and far between and even when they do appear they simply scud peacefully across the sun; they are the fluffy white clouds of good weather. Even if I don't manage to catch a single fish at least I might get a nice tan. Not that I'm in to tanning or anything, it's just that working underground for weeks on end has given me the pallor of something out of a crypt. What about missions? I hear you cry. Well, if you know a way of catching some rays whilst dressed head to toe in khaki green with sun cream covering the bits in between, let me know.

I open the window again for the umpteenth time. The smell of hot tar drifts up from the road outside. The Colonel looks over at me, smiling slightly, eyes flicking back and forth between me and the road. He still can't believe that he finally got me to come fishing; I should have known better than to bet against him. I can't remember the exact situation now, but suffice to say I lost our little wager and my forfeit was to accompany him on a fishing trip. Daniel, Jonas and Teal'c have shot me sorrowful glances all morning on base as the Colonel expounded in gleeful delight all the things he had planned for the trip. Not those kinds of things. Get your minds out of the gutter.

"Not far now," he says with a grin, "Looking forward to finally visiting my cabin?"

I give him a suitably put-upon look. "Please sir, is it not enough for me to accept my punishment for losing the bet? Do I have to pretend to enjoy it too?"

At one time he might have taken offence at that comment but now there is such an unspoken level of communication between us that he can read simply from the set of my jaw and the twinkle in my eyes that I am joking, and that I have finally found a real excuse to accompany him to the cabin, one that I can justify enough in my own mind to be able to explain it to anyone else. Even if it is a stupid reason. 

He indicates left and we turn onto a dirt track, the car bouncing over the ruts in the road and making me grab the door as the seat jerks up and down. He laughs, enjoying my momentary second of panic. He throws in a few wild turns at bends in the track, hurling the suitcases in the back across the car and finally making me crack up. 

"How old are you?" I snigger as his face displays openly his boyish delight in slightly dangerous driving.

"Classified information Carter," he replies and cuts the engine. We're here, I realise. Wherever here is. I blink in confusion, looking for this elusive cabin. All I see is trees.

"The road doesn't lead all the way up to the cabin," he explains. "We have to walk from here."

My face falls slightly as I immediately regret packing three changes of clothes for every day and a few more beside. He heaves my case out of the trunk. "Jesus Carter, what have you got in there? A Naquadah reactor?" He grins. "I was going to be a gentlemen and carry it, but that's just ridiculous."

I shoot him another look and pick up my case. He's right, it is heavy. Cursing the bout of hysteria I suffered when packing (well, would you know what to pack for two weeks with someone you secretly long to impress? No? I thought so.) I start up the track to the cabin which he indicates as he slings the fishing... stuff... over one shoulder and picks up his case with the other. 

The cabin is... well, cabinesque. It's made of what appears to be stacked wooden logs with a squat roof, one story high and the woodland around has encroached over what might once have been a garden and plants are tentatively extending creepers and branches onto the roof. He unlocks the front door and we step inside.

It smells of him. That's what first hits me when I step in, not the astonishing tidiness (have you seenthis man's office?) or the surprisingly modern interior but the familiar and pleasant odour of his aftershave and underneath it all the more musky scent of him.

"Bedroom's this way," he says. I follow him through the cabin, eyes now ready to take in the polished linoleum of the kitchen floor, the thick carpet of the living room and real log fire. He pushes open a door. "The guest bedroom," he declares dramatically. It looks almost unused and spartan in comparison to the comfortable furnishings of the rest of the house. There are a few candles on the windowsill, burnt down to stubs; no doubt remnants of Teal'c's last stay here. There's an empty packet of antihistamine tablets that has slid down the back of a chest of drawers, I can see a corner of it poking out. Daniel's. My heart does the familiar saddening lurch before I remember that he's back with us, expelled from the community of super-beings (or Q continuum as the Colonel insists on calling it. Trekkie) and will be joining me and the Colonel in a week along with the rest of SG1 for our first proper celebration since he returned.

"I'll leave you to unpack," he says and I smile. I glance at my watch as he leaves. Still only half three.  
  



	2. Fishing

Jack

Ever the gentleman I knock politely on the door of the bedroom and wait for an answer before bursting in on her. Not that I would have any objections to walking in on her changing, but I imagine that she might. 

"You can come in!" she calls and I push open the door, giving her my most charming smile. She snorts in laughter, not exactly the reaction I was hoping for. 

"What?" I ask, slightly hurt at her response.

"You have such... odd taste in clothes sometimes, sir."

I glance down. Shorts in a rather groovy shade of green that double up as swimming trunks in case I want to take a dip in the lake, and a bright yellow tee shirt, oh, and a baseball cap of course. Actually, I can kind of understand her laughter. 

She on the other hand, looks stunning. Sandals, beautifully bare legs up to the hem of her hipster-peddle pushers, that co-ordinate perfectly with her blue tank top and at the same time give me a tantalising glimpse of a portion of her toned midriff. Oh God.

I really have to drag my eyes away. Recently there seems to have been a slight hike in the tension that has always been between us; that which was diminished by the za'tarc testing has gradually escalated again- although I have this terrible yet burgeoning suspicion that there is something, whatever that means, between her and Jonas. Which would be just my luck. 

"I feel the terrible urge to wear more colour after spending so long in BDUs," I explain, tugging at my tee shirt in mock self-consciousness.

"Are we going somewhere?" she asks, putting her hands on the small of her back and making my heart, as well as other parts of my anatomy I'm not so willing to discuss, leap. Mentally reminding myself to STOP IT I nod.

"The fish are calling to me. The lake's a five second walk. You can help me carry the rods and stuff."

"Just let me grab a book, sir."

A few minutes later we've unfolded the chairs and I've cast off, the float bobbing in the water as besides me Carter re-adjusts her shades and starts reading her book. Not a science textbook, I note with some surprise. A comedy.

There is a peaceful sort of silence for quite a while in the glorious summer sunshine, broken only by me shattering the stillness of the lake as I recast, the waves making the surface shimmer like a broken mirror. There is the faint rustle of her turning the page. Occasionally she chuckles under her breath at a particularly funny sentence in her book. I deliberate whether I should buy a copy in order to discuss it with her, decide instead to borrow hers and then realise what I am doing and order myself to concentrate on fish. FISH, Jack. You're here to fish. Not flirt.

She sighs and I look up, jerked out of my reverie. "So is this all you do?"

"What?"

"I mean, Teal'c did tell me this was pretty awfully boring but I thought you did more than just....sit. Sir."

The title is just a fraction of a second too late, a hastily added remembrance at the last possible second. I clear my throat. "I am doing more than just sitting, Carter. I'm fishing."

"But you haven't caught anything. All that's happened is something has taken the bait. Twice. You're just staring at the float."

I feign a sigh of impatience, noting with some shock that she's right. "So now you're a champion fisher-woman as well as a physicist, Carter?" 

She snorts with laughter again and I wonder how she makes that seem so damn attractive. I mean, if I started snorting with laughter people would be disgusted. "I bet I can catch more fish than you any day Colonel."

"Sounds like a challenge Carter."

She doesn't rise to the bait, if you'll pardon the fishing pun. "Can you swim in this lake?"

I shrug. "I have. Just don't swallow the water too much and you'll be fine."

"It's too hot to just sit," she explains and kicks off her sandals to dip a toe in the water. "It's quite warm," she says, as if surprised.

I shrug and turn back to my line for a moment, just as the float disappears under the surface. With a triumphant cry I pull the rod up and feel the hook snag. Wheeling in I discover... it was a weed. Carter laughs again as I untangle the hook.

I glance up and my heart rate sky rockets as she is pulling off her tank top. Obviously there is clothing underneath but the mere action is enough to give me palpitations. A bikini. Oh Lord. She pulls down her trousers and my heart rate goes from 'mouse' to 'bee-hummingbird.' 

Carter. Bikini. Cabin. Fishing. I try to blink away the... immoral thoughts... that rise -good choice of words there Jack, try again- emerge upon thinking those four words. She sits on the fishing platform and kicks her feet in the water. I hastily start putting away my fishing rod.

"You don't have to stop, sir," she says politely.

"Oh yes I do Carter. It's very dangerous to have hooks in the water when someone's swimming. Anyway, you're right. It is too hot." I take off my hat and reach for the hem of my tee shirt.  
  



	3. In Deep Water

Sam

He's taking of his tee shirt. He is TAKING OFF his tee shirt. I know it is (a): really rude and (b): improper of me as his 2IC to sit here and stare as he pulls his tee shirt off. I know that, and that's why the parts of my brain still here on Earth are shouting obscenities at the rest of my consciousness, which is firmly in orbit around planet Jack O'Neill. In an effort to break away I slide into the water. In submerging myself I force myself to stop watching him strip off his clothes.

I swim a few slow strokes away from the bank, cautious in case the water is much deeper or shallower than I am expecting. It is beautifully clear and quite warm on this brilliant summer's day. I surface for air as he executes a neat dive from the platform, and jerk away as the water splashes in my face as he kicks his feet to propel him under the surface. 

I tread water uncertainly for a few seconds, unable to see where he has gone under the water, which is blinding me by reflecting the rays of a fiercely effulgent sun right into my eyes as I squint to see where he is. There is an explosion of breath and suddenly his head appears a few feet away from me; his greying hair plastered to his skull and a wicked grin of boyish delight spread across his features.

"Show off," I grumble and he responds by turning over backwards in the water. I swim away from him, the same slow and deliberate strokes as he proceeds to undertake a quite staggering series of under water gymnastics that I refuse to even grudgingly acknowledge. I swim in a circle for a while until my muscles feel completely warmed up and then I go back to the platform, resting my arms on the sun-warmed bleached wood.

He reappears at my side again. "Fancy a race?"

My pride, hideously macho-istic after too many years in the military and certainly too many years on a team with this man, won't let me refuse even as my intellect points out the obvious physical advantages he has over me, not least height. "You're on, sir."

"First one to the opposite bank and back?" he says, a twinkle in his eye.

Whatever he's planning I'm ready. "Okay sir."

"Ready, set, go!"

I move quickly through the water, unaware of where he is in relation to me as I feel no pressing need to breathe and waste time until I reach the opposite bank. He's slightly ahead of me to my annoyance so I put on an extra spurt for the return journey. Turning my head to snatch a quick breath I see I am winning. Excellent.

I've almost reached the bank when a strong hand catches my ankle and pulls me backwards. I'm dunked under the water, coming up spluttering and indignant. "You're a cheat!" I cry, knowing I sound petulant but unable to stop myself at the unfairness. He grasps my arm to stop me from catching him a light slap and I use my free hand to splash water in his face. He turns away, blindly grabbing for my other arm and by sheer luck his fingers wrap around my wrist. We sink under the water as I struggle; him sinking faster so we end up under the water with me on top of him, although a good six inches of water is still between us I feel obliged to point out, sensing the impending court martial for fraternising.

There is a wonderfully still moment beneath the surface, the shattered light shimmering all around us in scattered rays as his hair floats oddly on the top of his head, darkened by the depths to the colour it was when we first met. His shorts are billowing around his legs and the tight grip he holds on my arms is welcome contact. He smiles under the water and a shiny bubble of air escapes from him mouth and sparkles its way to the surface.

We surface, noisily gasping for breath as we have stayed too long underwater, unwillingly to lose the connection that we are, for the most part, forced to ignore in everyday life. We're too close now, so close his grip has shifted to hold my arms to keep me from sinking, and the natural current of the water is pushing us closer together. My leg brushes his and I see mirrored in his face the expression I know is emblazoned across my own; longing. We're so close I can feel his breath on my cheek and for a moment the tilt of his head makes it appear as if he might kiss me.

"I shouldn't have come here." I don't realise I've said it aloud for a moment until he suddenly releases his hold on my arms and sculls backwards a few feet.

"Probably not," he agrees, "But we have to deal with this somehow. Again. Now seems as good a time as any, without being under the scrutiny of the whole base."

"I'd prefer not to deal with it myself sir," I say before I can stop myself. Dealing with it might mean having to let go, and that thought is too painful.

"Whatever Carter," he says, and swims off again underwater. Even though the sun is still beating down just as fiercely, for a moment I feel cold, as if a breeze has blown across the surface of the water, or a cloud momentarily occluded the sun.  



	4. Smoking Sausages

Jack

It's later, and fully clothed and separated by the distance of, oh at least six feet, that lies between my couch and her chair in the cabin's living room, the ever-so-close-to-being-actually-illegal moment of temptation I felt in the lake has... faded somewhat. Carter's nearly finished her book already and I am pretending to read but really I am just sitting here, watching.

I don't think she's ever looked as good as she does now. I mean, to my eyes she's always been frankly delectable, but with her hair cropped in its shorter and wilder new style (which, if I'm not mistaken is ever so slightly blonder at the edges, do I suspect highlights?) and sat comfortably in her civvies, one leg hooked over the other... this memory is going to be the beginning of a thousand night time fantasies. 

She smiles at something in the book again, one of those Carter megawatt smiles mostly reserved only for the people she cares about, or when I make her laugh. She looks up from her book suddenly and I quickly turn a page, trying to look as if I have been reading all this time. I stare at the words fixedly for some time until I'm sure she will be reading again and then I glance up.

She was staring at me! The slight reddening of her cheeks as she quickly turns a page betrays her actions. So I decide to sit her and stare directly at her until she looks up again so she knows that I caught her at it... wait a minute... wouldn't that mean that she would know that I was watching her before she was- 

She looks up and gives me a puzzled raising of one eyebrow, very much like Teal'c. I realise that my fierce stare was neither amusing or informative and just plain scary. I stop staring quite so fixedly. What to say, what to say...?

"You hungry Carter?" Okay, not the most original of lines but it does the job.

"I am a bit actually sir." 

"Okay." I stroll over the fridge-freezer. Ugh. "Er, fancy a ride into town? I think I need to buy some supplies..."

I don't expect her to reply yes, I really don't. Some time apart to cool off before this flirting takes a turn for the serious, and illegal; that's what we need.

"Yeah, okay Colonel."

D'oh!

*

So now we're driving again, the sun still bright, although losing a bit of its warmth as it approaches sunset. Carter's put a new radio station on. Something hideously modern as I so eloquently put it when she tuned it in, but actually, it isn't that bad.

We pull into town, I click the key and the car locks itself. "This way." She follows me down the street.

It's a quiet place, there's a convenience store, a gas station and a couple of other miscellaneous shops and offices. There aren't many houses. Carter reads the notice board as I hurry round the store picking up the supplies I figure we'll need. When I glance up she's in animated conversation with the woman behind the counter. I hasten over to pay for my purchases.

She's grinning all over her face when we step outside again and head back to the car, weighed down with steaks and beer for a barbeque or three. "What're you smiling about?"

"Oh, nothing sir," she replies and I give a derisive laugh. Nothing my as- foot. 

* 

The barbeque is sending smoke into my eyes and I wipe the tears away with a hand, turning the sausages with a skewer held in the other. "Sausage?" I ask and she nods, still engrossed in that book. Oh no, actually she's started another one. Maybe I can steal the first one now and read it.

This has got to stop. I can't go on thinking like this. "Carter?"

"Yes sir?"

"You know what I was saying earlier? Can I continue the conversation now?"

She gives me an unhappy look and shuts the book. "I suppose so Colonel."

I take a deep breath. "Things have gotten..."

"....Like they were before the za'tarc testing." She finishes the sentence for me.

"Exactly. I care about you Carter, you know that. But this is getting ridiculous. On missions, sure, I can handle it. But on downtime, like today..." 

"It's hard," she replies, voice barely above a whisper.

"Tell me about it. So, that's part of the reason I invited you here. So we could talk about it."

Silence reigns supreme, rather ironically. Her face is clouded now, troubled by my words. I decide to drop another bomb shell.

"I've been thinking about retiring."

There's no visible change in her face but my senses, finally attuned to every nuance of Carter's behaviour, note the slight tension in the jaw line, and the emotion quickly doused in her blue eyes.

"Why sir?"

I try and smile, but it comes out rather crookedly. "I'm getting old Major. I know I look it, and I'm beginning to feel it. Anyway, now we've got Daniel back from the Q continuum there's officially five member of SG1. It's going to get a bit crowded in briefings... I mean, you can be the brilliant tactician, Jonas can be the brainy one... actually you might have to share that one, and Daniel can be linguist and group conscience and Teal'c can be... well Teal'c. His role is kind of unique."

"You forgot the ridiculously courageous and sometimes quite insane commanding officer who holds the team together, sir," she says quietly and I smile sadly again.

"I was hoping the General might let you take over from me on that one."

"And you'd what..? Go back to Edorra? Or Argos? I seem to recall you have ladies on both planets stalwartly awaiting your return, sir."

Ouch, score one to Major Carter. "Actually, Hammond offered me command of the Alpha site."

"You spoke to the general?" she replies, shocked.

"Yeah, actually."

"It must be serious then," she says, and I nod. "Have you mentioned it to the others?"

"No Carter, I haven't exactly decided yet... I don't want to attend all the farewell parties and then change my mind and not leave after all."

There was silence again. Then: "Your sausages are burning sir." 

I turn to the barbeque to see that my sausages are indeed on fire.  



	5. In Concert

Sam

I would love to be able to say that the combined effort of saving the sausages from incineration did more aid than a whole book of diplomacy and the next morning the growing rift between me and the Colonel, fuelled by this ceaseless forced refusal of love, was closed.

I would love to be able to say it, but it would be lying.

We saved the sausages. We ate the sausages. We talked about inconsequential things. I went to bed. That was my evening.

And now I'm awake, in the small spare room hearing him moving in the room next door and wishing that- 

Wishing for something I can't have. I've got to try and accept this and move on. 

I swing my legs out of bed and go through my clothes. What to wear, what to wear...? Yesterday's trousers are hanging over the back of a chair. There's something sticking out of the back pocket. Oh yes! Two tickets to a concert out of town, bought yesterday from the lady behind the shop-counter. I wonder if the Colonel would be interested in accompanying me? 

After I've washed and dressed I walk into the living room again. The Colonel has set up a dining table and is crunching his way through a huge bowl of Fruit Loops with every sign of enjoyment.

"Good morning," he says between mouthfuls.

"Same to you sir, same to you," I reply.

"Cereal if you want it. Bottom shelf." 

"Actually sir, I have something to ask you." Hie eyebrows raise as he meets my eyes.

"Oh?" he says, grin mocking.

"I picked up some tickets yesterday for a concert out of town this evening. Fancy coming?"

He pauses for a moment and I can almost see the wheels turning behind a guarded expression. He eventually replies. "Sure. Fancy going fishing today?"

"Okay sir," I reply with a grin.

*

Fishing. It is so much more boring than I remember. I must have been sat here for, oh, at least THREE HOURS and I haven't had so much as a nibble.

The Colonel has caught three fish in the last half an hour which is not helping with my general bad humour. Nothing but the great respect I have for my commanding officer, the bright sunshine and the fact he's not wearing a shirt could make me stay here...

.... I didn't mean to think that last part.

I check my watch again. Half past twelve. Half past twelve, for crying out loud! At least five hours until I can sneak away to prepare for tonight.... I'm even beginning to think like him now for cry- for goodness sake!

"For cryin' out loud Carter, if you're bored you can say. Go get a book or something." I blink. With his hat pulled over his eyes I had assumed the Colonel couldn't see me watching the hands of my watch crawl slowly towards the hour.

"Sorry sir. The fish just don't seem to be biting for me," I say, apologetically.

"Go read then," he says from under the brim of his hat, "Or swim if you want. I can pack up."

"No sir, it's fine. I'll just get my book..."

I hear him sigh as I sprint back to the cabin for my book.

*

I hate getting ready. 

The agony of indecision; what colour to wear? Green and blue are too much like my BDUs, red makes me look pale, black makes me feel like I'm at a funeral, oranges and browns are just not my colour, I would never dream of wearing pink, I always spill something on me when I wear white...

Did I mention I hate getting ready?

And even when I have chosen my clothes I ponder over the accessories. Rock and pop the lady behind the counter said. Does that mean no dog collars, studs or chains?

Okay, that was a joke. I do not own any of the above. Nor would I even consider borrowing them from Cassie.

In the end I settle for a figure hugging black skirt with a belt; and a top that I will admit to borrowing from Cassie; again black but with slashes of bright red across it. Half an hour's work with some styling mousse is enough to make my hair suitably wild; now for my make up...

"Carter!" the Colonel calls some time later, "For cryin' out loud, you came back for a shower three hours ago! Are you ready yet?"

Men. So impatient.

"Almost sir!"

"Hurry up! I don't want to be late!"

I pull the door open rather more violently than I intended, his mouth is open as he is about to shout through the door again, and it stays open as his gaze drops slowly and then his eyes meet mine. He closes his mouth hurriedly. 

"Very nice."

"Same to you sir," I reply, and boy do I mean it. I take back all previous comments about this man's fashion sense. Jeans suit his unnaturally long limbed frame and his shirt; white and baggy, accentuates his tanned skin and draws attention to the well developed muscles in his arms. It has Homer on the pocket too. "Good enough for you?" he asks with a grin.

"I suppose so, sir," I sigh, "Ready?" 

He grabs his leather jacket off its hook. "I'll drive there if you'll drive back," he says as we head out for the car.

"Fine sir. Don't get too drunk," I warn.

"D'oh!" he replies, but quietly.

*

We pull up in the car park and scramble out of the car; the lights flash as the Colonel locks it. "Got the tickets?"

"Of course," I reply, looking affronted.

"Just checking. This certainly looks like the place," he says, indicating the large building aglow with disco lights; the bass beat of a warm up act is making the gravel chips on the car park tremble beneath our feet as we head over to where light spills out onto the grey chippings, and a heavily built man smoking a cigarette is leaning against the door lintel.

"Tickets," he grunts. I show him the two slips of paper and he waves us inside with a careless movement of his hand, unconcerned.

The atmosphere is somewhat smoky, the place already looking packed to capacity. There's a bar along the one wall, a stage at the front where the warm-up band are just packing away their stuff, a few chairs, and mostly dance floor. The Colonel heads for the bar with an expression of relief. He takes a seat and smiles languidly. "I'm home," he says.

"Good. Get me a drink then, sir."

"No drinking and driving," he says, waving a finger at me.

"Did I say alcohol sir?" I admonish, sharing his sentiment on that particular subject at least.

"Forgive me," he mock-begs. "Hey! A Coke and a Bud please!" he shouts the harassed looking guy behind the bar.

The band comes on stage, to a few cheers and I glance up. 

"Nice guitar," murmurs the Colonel appreciatively behind me.

"You're into guitars?" I ask, watching the lead singer plug in his berry red Gibson to the impressive set of amps and strum a heavily distorted chord.

"Remnants of a misspent youth," he murmurs as the singer winces and turns various dials. He strums again, a much cleaner sound emerging, nods to his bassist and treads heavily on a pedal taped to the stage.

The microphone squeaks. "Hello North Pines!" he shouts, dark eyes shining in the light under an excessive amount of curly brown hair, "Pleased to welcome you all here to this charity concert! Are you ready to ROCK?"

"Oh please," mumbles the Colonel, "The most unoriginal line in music ever spoken."

If he added anything else to that comment I fail to hear it, as the singer has finished his rapid count in and the band has started to play.   



	6. Dancing to Metallica

Jack

She looks wonderful tonight. I mean, absolutely wonderful. Her smoky eye make-up, the figure hugging top and skirt only just long enough to be decent, her hair spiked and wild. Jesus, it should be made illegal for her to wear these clothes.

"Ah, Metallica," I say, but I doubt she hears me as the chairs have begun to vibrate across the floor with the sheer force of the sound.

As great as Metallica is, you really can't dance to it, so most people are clustered around the bar. Someone knocks into Carter, sending her sprawling straight into my chest. Instinctively I grab her arms to keep her from falling over, I imagine it must be quite difficult to balance on her highly impractical high heels. Her perfume fills my head as she meets my eyes and mouths 'thanks.' Unwilling to let go I force my fingers to release her, but she seems almost as reluctant to leave my embrace as I am to let her go. Someone taps her on the shoulder and she jerks away guiltily to look into the smiling face of a handsome man, younger than me, with foppish hair that is reminiscent of how Daniel (and, much to my amusement at the time, Carter) used to wear his.

"Uh, I know this is a bit, um forward of me," he says slightly nervously, "But, er... oh, what the hell. Would you like a dance with me?"

I can read simply from Carter's eyes that she in more normal circumstances (If I wasn't here, for example) would say yes to his fairly innocent request from a fairly good looking man. She glances at me as if to ask permission, permission for crying out loud! I giver her a smile despite the lurch in my stomach that is caused by a hot surge of jealousy. "Go dance!" I instruct her with a careless wave of my beer.

"Thanks sir," she mutters as she follows the young man, who clearly can't quite believe his luck, onto the dance floor.

"Any time Carter," I sigh, "Any time."

I spend the next twenty minutes watching them in the bar mirror. You can dance to Metallica, I have learnt. It involves mostly jumping up and down and shouting. Carter, no doubt relishing the chance to let go, is exuberantly involved; her 'dance partner' encouraging her occasionally but mostly forgotten. The originally named 'Metallica Tribute' finish their set and the room is filled suddenly with no longer the wail of guitars but the strangely muted buzz of voices. And the ringing in my ears of tinnitus from the loud noise.

Carter reappears at my side, slightly flushed and grinning madly. "Where's the Daniel look-a-like gone?" I ask, trying not to sound sour.

Carter blushes. "You mean David? He's not really my type sir," she says. 

"What did he do?" I ask.

"Its what he said, sir," she says, trying to catch the barman's eye and avoid mine.

"Which was...?"

"You really don't want to know, Colonel."

"Aw, come on. You've got me interested now," I wheedle.

"Okay sir," She meets my gaze, blue eyes twinkling. "I said 'I didn't think you could dance to Metallica,' and he said 'You can't. I just thought I'd help get you away from your chaperone.' so I replied 'He's not my chaperone, he's my CO,' and he said 'Funny, I thought he was your father.'"

I stop smiling. "That's not funny Carter."

"I said you wouldn't want to know, sir," she replies, turning back to the bar.

"Why did you run away from him, anyway?" I ask when she is finally served.

"He, um, was a little too interested in me. I politely declined a rather forceful offer," she says tactfully.

I decide in the future I must reign in my curiosity. I'm only learning things I don't really want to know.

The next band strike up meaning conversation is difficult anyway, so we lean on the bar and drink for the next half an hour. I watch some technical staff feverishly working to set up speakers and a workstation for a DJ. When the next live act walk off stage none follow them. Instead the DJ speaks into the microphone.

"Well folks, there'll be more live entertainment later. Now its time to get down to the dance floor! Yeah! Um." 

Clearly an amateur. I have no idea what he's playing but I tap Carter on the shoulder anyway. "Fancy a dance?!" I yell above the synthesised din.

"Okay!!"

*

Dancing.

I've never been particularly good at it; it's not something that, as a soldier, I have ever had much opportunity to practise. Wooden is the most polite way that my dancing style has ever been described. At least the music has changed into something that I vaguely recognise now, although the DJ seems a bit disgruntled about being told rather firmly what to play by another member of the staff here. To my intense relief, Carter seems slightly self-conscious too as we sway a few inches apart; the invisible barrier between us stronger than ever or so it would seem. Perhaps it is just as well.

"Okay folks! We're going back to live entertainment in half an hour so it's time to slow things down a little. If you've got a partner, get 'em on the dance floor now! If you haven't, what are you still doing here? Yo- " The microphone is snatched away from the trainee DJ as the slower song starts to play, much to several people's relief.

The people on the dance floor have moved closer together now, we are surrounded by couples young and old as the music starts. "This sound familiar," I say, trying to hide the discomfort I feel at being the only man still on the dance floor without a partner. 

"Frankie Goes to Hollywood : The Power of Love," mutters Carter and I raise an eyebrow. 

"I never had you down as a music mogul Major."

"Labwork, sir, can be very tedious. Music helps me pass the time. There's an internet group of lab physicists, to which I belong, that email MP3s to one another. Raven_303 sent me this a while ago."

"I am learning something over this fishing trip," I mutter and Carter smiles.

Sod the regulations. I can't stand all these people watching me and Carter maintain this awkward boundary, and her skirt has been tempting me all night. Hell, I've had a few beers. If the worst comes to the worst I can blame my slightly inebriated state for my next action.

I put my hands on Carter's hips, resting them lightly on the black material of her skirt and pull her closer to me. For a moment she stands rigid with shock and then she puts her arms over my shoulders, hooking them behind my neck as naturally as she tugs at her errant strand of hair when she's thinking. (Oh yeah, I stare at her in briefings way too much).The smallest of small gaps I had left between us is destroyed as she leans towards me slightly, our legs brush against each other and I can feel her breath on my cheek.

I can't make out all the words, but the meaning of the song is explicit enough, the sweeping strings behind the strangely poetic lyrics making it an excellent song to sway to together. To me the lyrics I can hear seem strangely fitting for the situation, and the lady I am sharing it with. 

Neither of us actually appear to move, but suddenly we are literally nose to nose as my hands slide around her waist and pull her still closer. The song is drawing to a close, I know that when it stops she is bound to move; her conscience, if not mine, will eat away at us: REGULATIONS MUST BE OBSERVED. I pray for it to last for just a few more moments, just a few more seconds with her so close to me, so relaxed.

The song does stop, but hats off to the DJ, he fades in the next number instantly. It is far more upbeat than the last however and sits oddly with the powerful ballad that we were just swaying to. "Now this one I don't know," I murmur.

"It's English sir. Space : Female of the Species."

"Ah. The physics group again?"

"Strangely no, an old friend from college. Her husband is from Liverpool, where the band originate from or so I believe."

I move backwards, the faster pace of the song meaning that the closeness of our embrace looks a little unnatural. "It's good. Strange but... good."

Carter smiles, one of her toothpaste-advert grins that makes me exceedingly glad I still have my hands around her waist, and even more glad that her hands are still gripping my collar.

*

The disco is over and a mutual awkwardness descends as we move apart from one another. More live acts are preparing on stage but checking my watch I am shocked to discover it is nearly one o'clock. Carter stifles a yawn and I ruffle her hair in what I hope is a casual manner. "Bedtime for you," I say, feeling incredibly old as I do so.

"Don't mess my hair up," she pouts, and I know she is teasing.

"I thought that was the point...."

In unspoken agreement we are heading to the doors, back to the car and cabin. I nod to the bouncer on the way out, the silence between us companionable rather than uncomfortable.

"Hey!"

A drunken shout breaks that welcome hush

"Hey! You!"

I turn to see... oh, whatshisname...David from earlier in the evening and a group of friends heading towards us purposefully. The bouncer has moved inside for a moment and the doors are shut, no help from that quarter. There are four of them altogether; all shorter than me but also, as I am uncomfortably aware, quite a bit younger. 

"She's the bitch that turned me down earlier," David slurs, indicating Carter.

"Excuse me," I snap, knowing the sensible thing to do would be to walk away and diffuse the situation rather than irk irritated drunks but unable to stop my chivalrous side leaping to the aid of the good lady. Carter lays a placating hand on my arm.

"Sorry... didn't mean to offend you.... Gramps..." sneers one of the others.

Taking a deep breath I start to walk away.

"Come on then!" the third one shouts. Carter keeps walking but something in me senses the next movement rather than sees it, sending me spinning round as David charges for me. Call it a sixth sense, animal instinct, too much bitter experience of stupid people or dumb luck but I am facing him when he cannons into me, which I later realised meant that I didn't get stabbed in the back.

Yep, the sixth sense told me he was charging but regrettably forgot to mention he was carrying a knife. There's a sharp pain in my arm and I push him away from me, feeling something skitter across my chest as I bring my knee up sharply. David crumples and two of his friends hang back. 

The third is not so sensible and also runs towards me. He's obviously drunk as well and I punch him square on the jaw. Sober, he might have been more than a match for me. In his inebriated state he has left himself wide open. He follows David to the floor as the other two would-be-fighters scarper.

Carter had run forward as soon as the fight began, not afraid to throw a few punches of her own if she needed to. She helps me to my feet with an expression of concern.

"Let's go,"I say.

"Did he get you?" Her face is pale in the gloom.

"A bit," I concede, "Let's get out of here before we get into more trouble..."

She's obviously unhappy about it but hurries over to the car and unlocks it for me. Twenty seconds later we have pulled off the car park and are out on the roads.

"Well, we certainly had an exciting night out," I joke.

"Are you hurt sir?" she repeats and I smile thinly.

"I've had a lot worse Carter. Just another shirt ruined..." Blood is steadily soaking into the slashed sleeve of my favourite shirt... it had Homer on!

She's driving too fast I feel, although I know why. We lurch to a halt outside the cabin's track. "Easy with my brakes Major!" I admonish.

"Sorry," she apologises hurriedly and practically pushes me up the track and inside the cabin. Her concern is quite touching.

Unfussed I fish out a clean tea-towel, wincing as I pull off my shirt, to apply pressure to the wound in my arm. A much shallower cut across my chest still oozes a little blood as Carter pulls out a HUGE first aid kit.

"Janet," she explains sheepishly,

"Not that she doesn't trust us or anything!" I snort, sitting on the edge of the sofa.

"She's right not to! Packed for every eventuality..." She pulls out a pack of steri-strips and some antiseptic fluid, a calculating expression on her face as she pulls on some surgical gloves.

I wince and flinch as she proceeds to clean and dress the wound on my arm and then turns her attention to my chest. Her gloved fingers are cool against my skin and I know my pulse is quickening as she works quickly to dress the next wound.

"There!" she proclaims as the last strip is stuck in place. "Thank you, by the way."

"For what?" I ask, puzzled, "Letting you play Doctors and Nurses?"

She raises an eyebrow at the idea in a very suggestive way. "No! For defending my honour back there... it was very sweet of you sir."

"Sweet! Well, they all thought I was your father anyhow... I was fulfilling my role as protective parent... or CO, take your pick."

"Ah sir, you could be the jealous boyfriend... if you were twenty years younger..." She's playing with me again I know but I can't help but rise to the bait. 

"I'd be younger than you, you cheeky sod!" I laugh and she smiles again as she pulls off the surgical gloves. "You do look particularly ravishing tonight in that skirt though Carter." 

Woahh! Where the hell did that come from Jack?? Back peddle, back peddle...

She grins devilishly as she sits next to me on the sofa. "You like the skirt?"

"I'm male aren't I? It was the legs in the skirt that caught my attention mostly..."

Again; what the hell do you think you're up to Jack?? Flirt = Court Martial = Bad. You don't need a degree in astrophysics to work that equation. But her smile is only encouraging me...

"Are you really going to retire sir?"

Ah, excellent move my the Major there, blow the flirtation right out of the water. I touch the row of steri-strips on my arm "Yeah."

"You'd command the Alpha site?"

I pause. "Well, I'd like to... but there's a problem with being off-world for the rest of my days... It's the main reason I haven't packed my bags and gone to join the circus already."

"What?" she asks hoarsely.

"I wouldn't get to see you."

"Oh sir! We'd come and visit you-" 

"Not SG1 Carter. I know they'd come visit. You. I wouldn't get to see you."

She pauses. "I'd come and visit too."

I smile sadly. "I knew you'd say that."

The silence balloons, filling the cabin; even the normal buzz of the night wildlife outside is hushed as the world holds its breath, waiting for the next word.

It waits in vain for words because Carter gives me the shock of my life by reaching for me quite instinctively, cupping the side of my face and kissing me on the lips. I give her no chance to back out, I'm mildly ashamed to say, kissing back fiercely and holding her face in my hands. When we eventually break apart I register with some shock that we are now lying across my sofa... or to put it another way, I'm now on top of Carter.

There is a strange moment filled only with the sound of irregular breathing, hers and mine. "Carter-" I begin.

"I know... I know," she replies, already preparing herself to move, no doubt already devising a million and one tactics of denial.

"I'll resign tomorrow," I say, taking her hands in mine, "But I need a better option than running the alpha site."

"Really sir?"

I laugh. "Carter, do you think in this situation you could at least bring yourself to call me Jack?"

"You're still calling me Carter," she points out.

"But I like calling you Carter," I reply, glad of the change of subject, "Its become like a pet name. No one else calls you Carter. It's either Sam or Major. I'm the only one who calls you Carter."

"I had noticed," she responds drily.

Unable to think of any other suitable course of action I kiss her again. Judging from the reaction, it seems to be the right thing to do.  



	7. The Course Of True Love Never Did Run Sm...

Sam

God help me. 

I am kissing my CO. 

KISSING. 

In fact, kissing is stretching a bit. Slipping into my half-remembered teenage vernacular we are necking... french kissing... snogging. 

Absolutely, definitely, certainly, without questionably, a court martial-able offence. So why on Earth am I kissing him back, sliding my hands over his bare back, pulling him towards me? There are no alien influences to blame, no mind-bending drugs force fed to the participants of this kiss. Just me and him; a wounded shoulder and a small act of heroism. Not very good defence at our trial.

"Mmph," he says, breaking away. "As pleasant as this is, it's not really an answer to my question."

"I don't know of a better option than running the alpha site, sir."

"Jack. For cryin' out loud, Jack. This feels, uh, weird enough as it is. Please stop calling me sir. You're making me feel guilty."

"Force of habit si-Jack. Sorry," I apologise, "Sorry."

"Aw, c'mon Carter. You always come up with the bright ideas."

"Not this time," I mutter, breathing deeply. It doesn't help, my pulse races faster as his pleasant scent envelops me and I simply grow more reluctant to push him off. His nose brushes mine.

"You know what I used to think?" I say, trying to stop myself from talking but failing miserably.

"What?" he breathes and the whisper of his breath on my face makes me tremble. 

"I used to think that I should just, you know, kiss you. Because there was no way that you could be as good a kisser as I kept imagining."

"And..?" he grins.

Sarcastic Major gains control thankfully. "And I was right," I smile and he looks vaguely affronted. "Are you out of practise or something?"

"I'm not going to dignify that question with a response," he responds, "Your alternate reality double kissed better than you do."

I raise an eyebrow. "Ouch. Nice comeback."

"I'm good at them," he sighs with a what-can-I-do kind of look.

"Unlike other things," I retaliate in the same sighing tone.

He kisses me fiercely again, shocking me for a moment. He breaks away suddenly and a look of brief sadness must have crossed my face as he chuckles with glee. "If it's that bad, why look so sad?"

"Oh, shut up." 

"Come on. I need a solution to my dilemma. You're not helping at the moment, you know," he says, not to be swayed from his problem. He shifts his leg to a more comfortable position, giving me a much better idea of how much he is enjoying this.

"Why not retire on Earth?"

"I would be bored Carter, bored out of my tiny, shiny mind. I've done it before. Its boring. With a capital B. I want to stay involved with the SGC."

"Join the diplomatic corp."

"Uh-uh. Never going to happen. Can you see me as a diplomat?"

He has a point there. Jack O'Neill is probably responsible for fifty percent of the off-world relationship problems we have with various aliens. He speaks his mind too often to be a diplomat. "Get assigned permanently to the staff training team. You'd still go off world, challenge you mind thinking up bizarre situations to test recruits and see SG1 all the time."

"Hhmm..." he says, still not looking happy but his face clearing a little.

"There is another alternative."

"What?" he asks.

"I could resign."

"Not a chance, Carter. You're not giving up your career for me. No way," he replies vehemently.

"I could still be on the team as a civilian. Doctor Carter. You know that's what happened in various other realities."

"But...you... you could easily get promoted to Colonel yourself And you'd never be allowed to command SG1 if you were on the roll as a civilian."

"But-" 

"The answer is no, Carter. I'd rather stay as a teacher than let you do that. Maybe I should ask the General if he has a better idea. Maybe he'll let me rejoin as a civilian..."

"As an expert in what?" I ask, trying to keep any trace of amusement out of my voice.

"Tactics against the Go'uld? Asgard relations?" he suggests.

"Oh. Yeah, good point."

He kisses me again, catching my wandering hands as they stray from his back. "Uh Carter, it's not as if I was exactly expecting... I mean, I didn't um... I don't have any..." he blushes and I wish I had a camera. I've never seen the Colo-Jack blush before. Ever.

I grin. "I have."

"You have? Carter... you...you whore!" he laughs.

"Hey, Janet's the one who packed them. Prepared for every eventuality, she said."

"She *really* doesn't trust us, does she?" he replies, the blush fading.

"As I said before, she's right not to... mmph..." I retort as he kisses me again.

*


	8. Resignation

Jack

I blink awake, there was light playing on my face through a gap in the curtains. I groan and move to block the unfriendly sunlight from my eyes with my left hand, but find it is curiously pinned to the bed sheets be something warm...

... Oh yeah...

"Good morning Sam," I say, voice cracking with sleepiness still to be shaken off.

"Good morning Jack," she replies.

"What do you want to do today?" I ask.

"*Good* question," she responds turning over to lie on my chest again. "What do *you* want to do?"

"You shouldn't ask that question."

She laughs. "How about a swim before breakfast?"

*

"I need a shower," she laughs as I give her a piggy-back from the lake.

"Me too."

"Sounds like a pla-"

"Hi you guys!" shouts Jonas from in front of my cabin. Daniel is staring at us with a very suspicious look in his eyes and Teal'c's one raised eyebrow is in danger of disappearing skywards. 

Carter immediately slides off my back looking extremely guilty. Which I suppose she should...

"Hey!" I call, feigning calm nonchalance. "The barbeque isn't ready for another four days yet!"

"We thought we'd come early. We bought beer. And Simpsons DVDs," says Jonas.

"Perhaps we should come back later," adds Daniel. He's shrewd that boy. 

I can almost hear Carter opening her mouth to reply, 'No, it's fine.' 

So I cut in first. "Yeah, actually guys. We need to get a shower. And to make a 'phone call."

Jonas stands and stares, mouth open in absolute shock. "Are you...?" But Daniel catches him under one arm, and him and Teal'c drag him away.

"A 'phone call?" Carter squeaks as they drive off.

"To Hammond," I reply voice suddenly sharp, the constriction in my throat and chest making the words difficult to force out. 

"You're resigning? Now?"

"I don't know about you, Carter, but I don't want to be court martialled." I storm inside, leaving her outside in the sunlight and pick up the 'phone. I dial the number quickly with a practised ease. "Hammond."

The door opens behind me and I know Carte-Sam is watching me. She doesn't speak.

"Hi. Jack O'Neill."

"I can hear that Colonel," the General replies in his Texan drawl.

"I'm resigning," I say bluntly.

There is complete silence apart from Carter's breathing, sharp and irregular as she remains completely quiet.

"May I ask why Colonel?" says the General.

"You can ask..." I say. And then I put the 'phone down.

Carter stares at me, rigid with shock, a slight tremble in her hands. "You just hung up on the General," she says, her voice shaking.

"He's not my boss anymore," I reply, covering the distance between us in two large strides, gripping her shoulders tightly.

I'm sure you can figure out what happens next. 


End file.
